Super Soldier
by PopPunkPrincess
Summary: Tatyana Antoline is about to join SHIELD, and at Phil Coulson's funeral, she meets Steve Rogers, who she doesn't know could turn her life all the way around.
1. Chapter 1

I exit the church that held a funeral for someone I respected extremely highly- Phil Coulson. I wipe a stray tear off my face as I walk back to my (rented) car. As I'm about to get in, my friends Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton approach me.  
"Hey," I say to them with my head bowed. "What's up?"  
Natasha shakes her head and Clint shrugs. "We kinda need a ride home," Clint says after a few moments silence. I roll my eyes but agree nonetheless.  
"So are you ready for tomorrow?" Natasha asks, leaning on the door of the rent.  
"Be careful, I gotta return this tonight! And, um, I guess I am. I mean, what's there to not be ready for?" I reply, smirking slightly. I sweep my red hair back and tie it with the hair tie on my wrist.  
"Tatyana, this is SHIELD we're talking about. They're top of the line-"  
"And you think I'm not? Tasha, you've trained me and trained _with _me, I think I can hold my own. Besides, what is there to fear?" I remind her. She rolls her eyes at me before looking to a blond walking towards us.  
"Hi, Cap," she greets him.  
"Ma'am," he replies with a small smile and a nod to Clint. "Who's this?" he asks in reference to me.  
"Tatyana Antoline," I answer. His face goes a slight tinge of pink as I shake his hand.  
"Pleasure," he mutters.  
"Should I say the same?"  
"I don't know, should you?" he replies with a smirk. "Steve Rogers; Captain America, probably heard of me before?" he asked hopefully. I chuckle.  
"Yeah, Nat's mentioned you once or twice;" I tell him, looking at Nat. "See you around, then, Captain."

* * *

After I drove Natasha and Clint back to their temporary apartment, I return the car and I take public transport back to my house. My fifteen year old sister Nataliya is on the couch, reading a book. As I open the door, she perks up instantly.

"Hey," I mutter sleepily. She hugs me softly.  
"You sound way tired," she observes.  
"No shit Sherlock," I reply, throwing my keys on the nearby table. "I'm going to bed," I tell her, looking in the mirror. My brown eyes are surrounded by red and my freckled, pale skin looks somehow paler than before. I sigh; I _really _need sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

When I wake up the next day, I'm pretty sure I act like the opposite of what a budding new SHIELD agent is supposed to be: energetic, rearing and ready to go. Instead, I drag myself on the floor and lazy stretch my hand to open my bedroom door. I give up after one try and instead yell for help.  
"Natalya! Help me!" I groan, hopefully loud enough. The door swings open, taking away the support my back had. I look up at my sister who shakes her head.  
"You're useless," she tells me.  
"Says the girl whose greatest pride in life is eating three bags of cheese puffs," I retort. Natalya scoffs and turns her back. "No, wait! Don't leave me here!" I plead, raising a hand in form of surrender. She turns around and pulls me up.  
"Do I have to make you breakfast too?"  
"You do."  
"Why?" she groans. "Are you also too lazy to fry an egg for two minutes?" she says with a smirk.  
"I made breakfast yesterday. It's your turn," I say triumphantly, smirking at her look of exhaustion.

I walk into SHIELD base, slightly less sleepy than I was this morning and see Clint and Natasha chatting aimlessly outside.  
"Sup Birdman?" I ask Clint, laughing at his unamused expression.  
"Can't wait to see you get your ass kicked in your evaluation today," he replied with a small smirk.  
"Keep chirping, Bluebird." Natasha snorts before composing herself again.  
"She's right, Clint. She'll be fine," Natasha tells him. I cross my arms and smirk at Clint, who turns away from us.  
"Oh, hey, look who's here," Clint says, trying to keep up conversation. Steve walks up to our small group, hoisting his shield on to his arm.  
"Ma'am, Clint," he says automatically. He smiles when he sees me. "You," he greets.  
"And you," I reply with a smirk. He smirks back at me; he seems like a pretty good person. We stand smirking at each other for a few minutes and just as it starts to get awkward, he snaps back into attention.  
"Shit, um, I forgot, I came to get Tatyana- I mean Agent Antoline to escort her to evaluation," he tells us. I wave to Natasha and Clint and follow the Captain into what is possibly the _largest _facility I'd ever seen. "OK, is the evaluation trying to find my way through this maze and then find a way to SHIELD?"  
"No, because if it was," he puts his hand on my back and pushes me to the front, "we wouldn't have any agents." I laugh.

Soon enough, Steve gets me to the evaluation sector of SHIELD where I meet… this bald guy with an eye-patch, which I have to admit intimidates me a bit.  
"Name?" he asks firmly.  
"Tatyana Antoline." I watch as he checks off something on his clipboard.  
"Director Fury," he introduces himself as, shaking my hand. I'm handed a gun and some wrist tazers and I'm told to use them wisely. 

After about an hour of going through men, women, robots, creatures, fire, water and electric shocks, I finally make it out, not feeling great, but at least I'm not shreds. Director surveys me for a moment and smiles. "Agent Antoline, welcome to SHIELD."  
Steve, Natasha and Clint all smile at me and I smirk back. This should be fun.


	3. Chapter 3

Before I know it, I'm officially an agent of SHIELD, and thanks to Natasha and Clint, with level five access to SHIELD info, which, though it isn't much on a general scale, for a newbie it's pretty sweet. It's a slow day at SHIELD, so I join the break room with Nat and Clint.  
"Itsy Bitsy, Flappy Bird," I greet them. They roll their eyes in sync before smirking. "What? Oh," I turn around and see Steve right behind me. He nods, smiling.  
"How's it been, newbie?" Steve asks, sliding around me to take up a seat.  
"In the last, um, thirty minutes since you last saw me? Not a lot happened on my slow trod towards the break room of mystery," I reply sarcastically. My phone starts vibrating in my pocket. "Excuse me for a minute," I say before seeing it's my sister.  
"Tatyana, um, there's a bit of a problem. The cat ran out the house and terrorized the neighbour's mice and now she wants to speak to you," Natalya came over the phone.  
"You've got to be fucking kidding me, right? Fine, how soon?"  
"Basically you've got half an hour before she goes ballistic."  
"Fine, see you soon," I mutter into the phone. I slide my bag over my shoulder and look to leave.  
"Hey, where're you going, party's just started," Clint said.  
"No, party just ended. I gotta go deal with a crazy neighbour. I'll see you tomorrow, guys." Everyone waves, except for Steve.  
"Tatyana, wait up! I need to ask you-"  
"Sorry, I can't right now, I'll, um, I'll talk to you tomorrow, bye soldier!"

* * *

I wake up the next morning, feeling way more energetic to get my lazy ass to work. I pour a bowl of cereal for Natalya and I pour some milk for our cat. I hum as I chew the Nature Valley bar that's probably two months old. I'm humming in the bath, I'm humming as I brush my teeth and I'm humming as I try to walk out the door. But, with a prying fifteen year old sister, you kinda have to expect to be stopped on your way out. She grabs my arm.  
"Wa-a-a-it Tatyana! Why are you so happy?" she asks with a suggestive smirk. I pull my arm away from her.  
"Oh fuck off, child. You don't even know who I work with! It's just Clint and Natasha, if you were wondering," I tell her, to her disappointment.  
"Ah well, tell them I said hey," she tells me before going back inside.  
"Remember no TV!"  
"Gotcha, sis," she says with a wave goodbye.

* * *

"T! Good you showed up!" Clint shouts to me. I laugh.  
"Why wouldn't I?"  
"Most agents bail out after their first day," Clint tells me with a snort, putting an arm around me. I raise an eyebrow.  
"I'm guessing that's due to you and Redhead over there- hey Tasha," I guess. Clint gives me a knowing smile.  
"Hola chica," Natasha replies sarcastically. "I think Steve is coming soon," she tells me, smirking. I roll my eyes.  
"Y'know, he had something to ask me yesterday, but I had to bail."  
"Naggy neighbour?" Clint guesses. I laugh and nod. The three of us are like best friend in high school, which I'm pretty proud of. As we're walking to the training room, which is the one they're insistent on showing me first, I feel hand wrap around my eyes.  
"Guess who," the voice said behind me. I wrinkle my nose and smirk.  
"Chris Evans?" I say sarcastically. He laughs.  
"Close, two more guesses."  
"Um, Steve?" I remove the hands from my face to reveal the smirking blonde. "Hey boy scout." He gives me a sarcastic salute and smiles at me.  
"It is," he says. There's an awkward five minute silence before Steve perks up. "Oh, before you have to run off again, my question, from yesterday…" he blushes a bit.  
"Sure, and it is…"  
"Well, there's a dance near where I live on Saturday, and I was wondering if you would probably want to, um, come with?" he looks at me hopefully as his face grows red. Natasha nudges me and I glare at her.  
"Um, sure, I'd love to come," I reply, giving him a small smile. He takes a breath of relief.  
"Great! Thank you," he says quietly.  
"No big, pick me up at eight, and I'll see you later," I say with a wink.  
"Twenty that there's not going to be much dancing going on," Clint tells Natasha not-so-discreetly.  
"I bet thirty that there isn't going to be any dancing going on at all!" Natasha says blankly. I hit her on the arm.  
"And I bet fifty to the both of you that y'all are just being giggly teenagers."

* * *

The training room was GARGANTUAN. I mean, there were targets, punching bags, a running track, an archery section, there was a boxing ring. I'd never seen so many things in a room before- not even the gym.  
"Wow," I mutter. Clint smiles at my wonder.  
"Welcome to SHIELD, my redhead friend! Well, my second redhead friend," he mutters, glancing at Natasha who instantly heads for the shooting range. She doesn't miss a single target. Soon, I join her and reluctantly pick up a gun.  
"Why so scared, T? Do you think it'll screw up your 'dance moves' for Steve?" she asks, snorting. I glare at her and pull the trigger at the target. I almost hit the bulls-eye, almost.  
"I am _not. _It's just that the last time you and I aimed guns at things, they weren't exactly immobile targets," I say drearily. Natasha is immobilized by the memories and sobers immediately. "That's what I thought, Nat, now, focus," I mutter, not feeling too happily about the memories either. After a good few minutes of heavy silence, Natasha smirks as soon as she finishes shooting her last target.  
"Use protection," she ended off. I glare at her as she walks slowly out the room. I turn back to the targets and I come a few centimetres off Natasha's dead centre shot. I smile to myself before running to catch up with my friends.

* * *

Around four or five hours later, I throw myself onto the couch of the break room, exhausted. Clint and Natasha made it their mission to make me memorize every twist and corner (and even vent) of SHIELD. Despite being a mouthful to say, it's hell to find your way around. Nat and Clint come into the room after me, followed by none other than Steve.  
"Is it me or are you three the only Avengers in this world?" I ask sarcastically. They chuckle.  
"At the moment, at least in New York; sometimes we call in Bruce and Thor will visit with Jane from time to time. Every Wednesday, Tony comes in and gives us an update of the Avengers Tower," Steve explains, cautiously sitting next to me. I cock my head to the side.  
"What? I never knew you guys got a tower."  
"Others aren't supposed to know. Only the team and their significant others," Natasha tells me.  
"The Avengers get around? I thought you guys have some serious shit to Avenge. _Yeah, guys, I'm sorry I can't assemble right now; I'm busy having lunch with my girl. _Get your shit together, guys, so who are these lucky bastards?" I ask.  
"Um, well, Thor has Jane, Bruce has Betty, Pepper has Tony and then there's us who share a floor regardless and-" Clint shuts up as Steve looks slightly embarrassed. "And they _don't _interrupt us working, for your information."  
"Why are you two so blind, just kiss already!" I tease. They blush heavily before scoffing.  
"We'll kiss when you admit you two aren't going to be getting much dancing done."  
I roll my eyes and throw a plastic cup at Clint's smirking face. Saturday was a day away.


	4. Chapter 4

I know I've only been at SHIELD for two days, but Clint, Natasha and I are inseparable, and Steve loves tagging along with us. Friday afternoon, Clint and Steve are called off to do something with Director Fury, leaving Natasha and I to ourselves. Almost immediately, she strikes up conversation about tomorrow night.  
"So, do you know where it is?" she pries. I roll my eyes.  
"No, and even if I did, I'm not telling you."  
"I feel hurt; so, do you have anything to wear? I mean, this is Steve we're talking about."  
I look at her weirdly and scoff, since when did she start to care about _clothes? _"Of course I do, I'm never out of jeans and t-shirts."  
"You're going to a dance, with Steve Rogers, in a jeans and t-shirt?" she asks, making me sound blasphemous. I shrug.  
"Yeah, what's so wrong with that?"  
"This is a dance, not the club. It's going to be some 40's styled dance with all dressed up folks from round there-un parts," Natasha says half-sarcastically.  
"So I should go in denim overalls?" I reply just as sarcastically. Natasha laughs.  
"No, idiot, I'm saying you should buy a dress- even I have dresses. It's ok to be a girl sometimes, T," she reassures me. I smirk.  
"So you'll take me dress shopping?"  
"I said 'sometimes', and I forgot to add- on your own!" she tells me, looking exhausted even at the thought of shopping. I smile and run for a hug from my friend.  
"Oh, that some time is now and no girl is on her own, come **on**, Nat!" I take her hand, giggling and clock us both out to the sound of her incessant protests.

An hour later, we're at the local mall, and against my previous beliefs, I'm having fun shopping for dresses with Natasha. I learn that she has an awesome taste in clothing, but she's also extremely picky. I've tried on about thirty dresses in the past fifteen minutes, and I'm starting to call extreme bullshit.  
"Natasha, come on, how posh is this 'shin-dig' gonna be? What's the big deal if 'the stitching on the left side of the sash on the dress mismatches the glint in your eyes when you do a forty-five degree turn'?"  
Natasha scoffed. "First off, nobody has that good of an eye, second off, I don't know, that's why you should probably be prepared, this green one brings out-"  
"Let me guess, my ass? The mole on my back, wow," I snap sarcastically. I squirm into the dress, coming out of my dressing room grumpily. Natasha smiles at me.  
"You look amazing- and they bring out your eyes, but cute mole," she retorts.  
"So we're going with this one for sure?" I ask, changing back into my regular clothes. Natasha nods and helps me cash it.  
"Just have fun, Tatyana," she tells me.

Saturday morning, I'm awoken by my sister. "What do you want?" I moan, hitting her face like the snooze button.  
"What I want is to help you get ready!" she tells me excitedly. I look at her weirdly.  
"Chill out, Tal, he's picking me up at eight, I have time," I tell her. She pouts and pulls me out my bed, making me hit the floor with a slam.  
"No you don't! We're going to have to do your nails, your hair, your makeup…" she goes on making a list of unnecessary to-do-s. I shake my head.  
"Why does everyone care so much? It's _just _a dance! What we need to do is get breakfast-"  
"We brought Fruit Loops didn't we? It's going to take a while to do all these things, now go shower, wash your hair and y'know, and make me proud."

At 7:57 PM, my hair is straightened to perfection, my nails are painted a light green, and I'm all dolled up or whatever. I look pretty damn good, but I think it's a bit too much. I spend the last three minutes lacing up the strings on my shoes, and then I hear the door open.  
"Hi," I greet Steve. His eyes widen for a split second.  
"Wow," he replies after a few minutes of heavy silence. I smile at him before chuckling.  
"For all the pain I had to endure, you could've looked better," I joke. "Be good," I tell my sister. She gives me the thumbs up as I close the door.  
Steve steps in front of a motorcycle and I have to laugh. "Tell me that we're not going on that-"  
"What's wrong, scared of a motorcycle?" he asks, helping me on to it. I scoffed.  
"Oh please," I try to sound confident. He starts up the thing and my stomach drops a bit. I cling on to Steve for leverage and for dear life, but to be honest, we weren't going that fast. I take in his scent- it's a mix of tropical soap and shampoo and Old Spice body spray, and I notice that his hair is fluffy enough to fly back in the wind. It's a silent, awkward ride to the place, and when we finally get there, Steve offers to help me off the motorcycle. I gladly oblige.  
"You know, the last time I asked someone to a dance, it- in short, it didn't really work out," he tells me sadly. I cock my head, but shortly after realize what he means. Natasha told me a couple times about the backstory of 'Captain America', the entire freezing over 70 years and still being alive, blah, blah, blah. To try and stay on the light side, I smile.  
"Hey, at least you have all of this," I brag, spinning.  
"I don't see the advantage to that," he jokes back. I pinch his arm, laughing.  
"So," Steve tries to break the silence that dropped as soon as I see the atmosphere. Thank god for both the Nat-s in my life. There are so many high-class people here that I swear that I climb up the social ladder just by standing there. "Ta-daa."

All it takes for Steve and me to get into the dancing is an hour of time passing and realization that if we just sit and talk, people would glare. It takes a while for me to not step on his feet every five seconds, but being the gentleman he is, he chooses not to say anything and take the pain all with a smile on his face. I have to admit that it's fun. Also, I have to admit that despite having me as a partner, Steve is a pretty a-ok ballroom dancer. There are times when he'd spin me and I swore I'd go flying haywire, but for a clumsy kid from Brooklyn, he catches pretty well. When it all comes to an end, I pout.  
"That went better than expected," I tell him, smiling. He lifts me back on the motorcycle.  
"My feet have a different story to tell," he mutters, smirking. I kick him for good measure.

Steve sneaks me back into my house, seeing that my sister is asleep on the couch at midnight with a book over her face. "Bye," I whisper. He gives me a small nod.  
"See you on Monday."


End file.
